Fear and Shame
by TechnoScribe
Summary: A tag for The Eye. Rated M for safety, as torture is an adult topic. ...new chapter added...
1. Chapter 1

Authors note -

This story is my very first attempt at an episode tag, and so is a bit of an experiment. After watching the episode, The Eye, I felt left hanging a bit. I don't think that torture is something that would be shrugged off. It certainly had a lasting effect, and the experience is even touched on in at least one of the Stargate Atlantis novels.

Warning; The following story has content which may be disturbing to some. ('may' meaning will, and 'some' being those of you that are safe to meet in a darkened alley).

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Fear and Shame

Chapter One-

Peter nudged Radek and nodded down the darkened corridor they were working in. Rodney had re-emerged with yet another bandage wrapped thickly around the arm the military issue coat he had donned over his science uniform jacket some time ago. He had been complaining of being cold, having spent 'more time in the cold rain and wind than anyone of his value and genius should have to' and proclaimed he was certain he'd lost valuable brain cells to brain freeze. The expeditions Chief Scientist was obviously tired.

They'd been surprised when he insisted on personally overseeing the storm damage assessment and then had launched into repairs. The both of them, and the entirety of the rest of the science team, had had plenty of time to rest while waiting off-world for the storm to pass. Rodney had been working the entire time. Even when those who had stayed behind in the city were trapped in the control tower, waiting out the storm, Rodney had spent the time taking readings, measuring the force of the storm, cataloguing damage, and monitoring power levels.

By the time everyone was back in the city, with their equipment settled into place under Rodney's supervision, the work day was over. But while everyone else headed off for a late supper and a nights rest, Rodney had picked up a tool kit and headed out to begin the storm repairs himself.

His reasoning had sounded plausible at the time. He had wanted to confirm his initial assessments so that repair teams could be sent out early tomorrow. Radek and Peter had offered to do it for him, but he'd reasonably argued that he was best qualified as he had monitored everything from the Control Tower during the storm.

Still they had accompanied him out of a sense of duty, thinking that the work would go faster if they assisted. That had been over six hours ago.

About three hours into their labour Rodney had begun to persistently shiver. Peter had suggested he get a hot shower and some rest.

"You're the one who's always saying how easily you catch colds." Peter had reminded wisely. "You really should rest."

At which Rodney had snapped and asked that they stop trying to coddle him, then disappeared and reappeared with the coat.

The second bandage, again over the coat, was a new addition though. Peter and Radek looked at each other with concern. The science jacket he wore under the coat also had a goofy looking bandage on the arm. They had already offered to take a look at his arm and wrap it properly. They were also pretty certain that if Rodney had actually gone to the infirmary someone there would have found the time for it. The last they heard Carson was bustling around, doing his own inventory, having slept most of the day and pretty much recovered from most of the effects of the concussion.

The two men were at a loss as to why Rodney hadn't gone to see him. But they had a growing feeling it was somehow related to why Rodney snapped at them every time they started to ask what had happened to injure his arm in the first place. At first they'd been certain that their hypochondriac leader would have had himself looked at if it were serious, and that the ridiculous bandage must cover little more than a scratch.

Now they feared the opposite. Rodney was far too driven. The crisis was over, but he was working as though for him the crisis was ongoing.

The clearly tired, and bandaged, scientist moved straight to the overhead panel he'd been working on. It was Radek who went over to him this time, as Peter had been having no luck.

The shadows in the darkened corridor moved across Rodney's pale face as he worked, making his expression look more haunted than focussed. But his hands were steady and his gaze into the panel was intent. One of the two marines who had been assigned to guard them was shining a flashlight into the panel.

Radek nodded to the marine and took charge of the flashlight so that Rodney could not shoo him away without sacrificing his light, "Rodney. We are tired. You are tired. The damage is too great. We cannot possibly get all of this repaired in one day even if we make entire science team pull sleepless shifts, which would be unwise. We should eat real food, not power bars, and rest now. Otherwise we will make mistakes. You know this."

Rodney sighed, and when he replied his voice was as deceptively confident and reasonable sounding as it had been all night. "I'm not trying to repair everything. I'm trying to repair this panel. I'm almost finished and then we'll be done with this corridor. Now why don't you give the nice soldier back his flash light as your brain is better used elsewhere and his isn't?"

Radek stayed stubbornly in place, "You say that in last corridor, and one before that, and one before that, and at generator rooms, and at grounding stations!"

"So you can see why I might be annoyed at having to repeat myself. If you two want to take a break, then go ahead!" Rodney snarked in his usual arrogant tone, with just a hint of humour. At this point it was too normal to be normal, and it only increased Radek and Peter's worry.

Radek huffed in frustration, and let the flashlight wobble as he did so.

"Do you mind!?" Rodney snapped. "If you can't hold it steady I'm going to have to insist you give it back to the marine!"

But Radek had caught sight of a flash of crimson red around Rodney's wrist, beaded at the edge of his cuff line like a bracelet. The Czech swiftly reached up and felt the sleeve of the innermost jacket before Rodney could pull away with a shout of protest. It was soaking, and red smudged his fingers when he pulled away. Radek' heart leapt in horror at the sight of it and he let loose a string of curses in his native tongue.

Peter left the panel he'd been working on and jogged over to Radek, thinking maybe he'd been zapped. He stilled when he saw the blood.

"He is bleeding," Radek quickly explained so that it would not be mistaken as his own, and aimed his flash light to where Rodney had backed into the shadows and was now standing unnaturally quietly. He clutched his arm to his chest. Arrogance and confidence were replaced by shame, fear, and resignation.

The two marines that had been guarding them moved quickly, one going to the two stunned scientist's, and one to McKay.

The marine with Radek and Peter shone his light on the floor, revealing small spatters of red, and from there followed it a short way down the dark corridors, finding more signs. It had been dark and they hadn't been looking at the floor. They hadn't been expecting one of their charges to hide something like this, least of all McKay. He called the control tower and let them know they were coming in with one wounded. Then turned and jogged back towards the group.

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The walk to the infirmary had been silent once the others had accepted that Rodney wasn't going to answer any questions, and certainly wasn't going to submit to any first aid. He knew there was no point in protesting now. But he also couldn't bring himself to help them to help him. He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve their care or their concern. He'd just let them get this over with. He could already imagine the looks of disgust and disappointment. He deserved that too.

The nurse that greeted them tutted when she saw the bandages wrapped outside the coat, and the pale man bundled within, "I don't think I've ever heard you make such a quiet entrance, Dr. McKay."

She frowned when he didn't respond. She wasn't sure she'd believed it when the marines bringing him in reported that he wasn't talking. "Dr. Beckett should be along shortly. I'm just going to begin a preliminary examination. That coat is going to have to come off." She led them over to a bed and patted it. "Come sit here before you fall over."

Radek and Peter stood at the end of the bed, out of the way but unwilling to leave Rodney until they had at least some understanding about what was going on. Besides, with Rodney not talking they were answering what questions they could about how long they thought he might have been bleeding, when he started becoming more pale, how much he'd been favouring the arm…

The nurse took gentle hold of Rodney's bandaged arm and carefully turned it upwards. A small amount of blood could already be seen through the outer bandage. Rodney looked away from it, not wanting to be reminded... Why wouldn't it just stop? He hissed when she gently tugged the wrapping, to check its tightness.

"Sorry," The nurse apologized, "Though it's good to know that you can still make a sound. Now, I need you to hold still while I remove all this so we can get a proper look at your arm." As she continued she took a firmer hold of his arm and produced a pair of long sharp scissors.

He panicked and jerked his arm away roughly, causing pain to flare through it again. He gritted his teeth against the pain.

The nurse swore softly. She could clearly see that the flow of blood through the bandage had increased.

A cheery Scottish voice broke through the tension, "What's all this I hear about a bleeding Rodney not talking our ears clear off? Did he bite his tongue?"

He looked quite surprised, and then concerned, at the absence of a sarcastic come back from his normally quite talkative friend. Not only was Rodney quiet. His shoulders slumped and he stared at the floor in shame. The ridiculously bandaged arm was clutched protectively against his chest. Carson looked questioningly at Grodin and Zelenka, who were hovering as closely as they could without getting in the way. The two shrugged helplessly.

The nurse scurried over to the doctor and quickly updated him in a quiet tone.

He nodded to her and sent her off to fetch more supplies.

"Right then," Carson carefully lifted the scissors so that Rodney would see it coming clearly. "I'm going to take a look at yer arm now. And I'd rather not have to sedate ye to do it. I'll give ye something for the pain once I know what we're dealing with."

Rodney tensed and looked away, but managed to keep himself from pulling back this time. '_Mind over body_,' He told himself. There was a bitter humour in that.

The bandage came off more quickly than he would have expected, releasing the dampening sleeve of the coat. He moved to unzip it, but Carson was faster. Grodin was there to help tug the sleeves off his arms.

Beckett was happy for the professional assistance. Not many knew it, but Peter had raised the money for his on going education by working as a paramedic. The Brit was more than a little embarrassed and upset that he'd spent an entire day with Rodney without considering that the man's injury could be serious. Rodney had hidden the signs well.

"Good grief, Rodney!" Carson exclaimed when he saw how much blood had soaked through the bandage wrapped over his science uniform jacket.

Carson unwrapped it, and the sleeve of that jacket was cut away to reveal a third bandage over a long sleeved blue shirt. The entire forearm was sodden with blood. Carson huffed, "You're wrapped like a Russian doll, ye daft man!"

The increasing worry in his voice spoiled the scold. He carefully cut away that bandage, along with the once blue sleeve, to reveal what had to be the final bandage. The weave of the cloth was unfamiliar. It definitely wasn't a bandage from earth.

Rodney studiously kept his eyes away from his arm and what he knew must be looks of judgement and disgust. If they didn't feel that way yet, they would soon. They should.

When Carson peeled away the final bandage his hands stilled. He was a smart man. Rodney imagined that Carson must be putting two and two together and realizing the real reason Kolya had learned of the plan.

"Kurva drát!" Radek whispered in horror and backed to the door. Rodney could here his footsteps retreating down the hall.

Rodney closed his eyes tightly in pain as Carson placed a wad of gauze over the wound and instructed Peter to hold it. He felt a brief prick and his arm numbed. It was probably a localized anaesthetic.

Carson was rattling off commands to another nurse, "Wake Dr. Biro and have an operating room prepared immediately."

It was too soon after his concussion for Carson to allow himself to do anything but observe from this point on.

The physician turned his attention back to his patient, "Rodney. How long ago did this happen? I need ye to tell me as much as ye can."

Silence. Rodney felt a shifting of hands over his wound, and was then aware of Peter leaving.

Carson leaned in closely, so that they could speak privately. "How and when did this happen? Ye must tell me so I can help ye."

The physician huffed in frustration when his patient remained silent, "Say SOMETHING!"

Rodney looked at Carson and said the only thing he could think of that mattered, "I tried to keep my mouth shut. I tried. Really I tried. I just couldn't." Once he started, the words kept spilling with increasing speed and he hated that he was shaking, but he couldn't stop. "I'm sorry. Everything I said told him something. I lied and he just knew. I'm a terrible liar. I'm sorry. He just knew what was true like I'd told him by what I didn't say and-and-and then he knew the plan to save the city. I told him the plan to save the city. I didn't tell him but it told him. At least I think I didn't. I didn't mean to tell him. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He was surprised when at some point in his ramblings Carson had wrapped a bear-like arm around him and pulled him into a tight hug. Didn't Carson realize that he didn't deserve their sympathy or their care? He'd betrayed them. His weakness had nearly killed them all. They could have lost the city!

Kolya's words still burned in his mind. Every time Rodney had tried to misdirect them Kolya had just smiled, _"I see Doctor. So what you've just told me is…." _

"N-no!" Rodney had squeaked, "That's not what I said!"

_"Oh but it is. Tell me more." Kolya looked at the one handling the knife. The dull edge traced along exposed nerves. _

Rodney had cried out and tried to think of something that Kolya would believe. Thinking back, he wasn't even sure what he'd said.

But he remembered what Kolya had said, _"Thank you, Doctor, you've been most helpful."_

He made a half hearted attempt to pull away from Carson. But his friend held tight. Why didn't he understand? He didn't deserve this. "You don't understand. I'm not even sure what I said in the end. I'm not sure… I might have…"

"It's not yer fault," Carson said the impossible with complete certainty. "I don't blame you. Nobody will blame you, because it is not yer fault, lad."

The words meant to comfort stung more than blame, because if it wasn't his fault then he had to admit that Kolya had taken away his control and left him powerless. His mind was his strongest asset. He was a genius. He should have been able to outsmart Kolya and his goons. He shouldn't have been readable. The mind of a genius was supposed to be all powerful, impenetrable, unbreakable! To his own horror Rodney's shoulders shook with now freely flowing tears of humiliation.

Carson just repeated over and over, in a thickening accent, "It's nae yer fault," determined to make Rodney believe it whether he wanted to or not.

Kolya's eyes had laughed at him when Elizabeth insisted to be told what had happened in her absence. _ "Dr. McKay was foolish enough to attempt an escape. I trust he won't make that mistake again."_

_Kolya looked straight into Rodney's eyes and known he'd be too ashamed to tell the truth. "You should know, Dr. Weir, that we were not planning to leave your city until we had completed a thorough search for any supplies you might be with-holding. It would have taken until morning, and by then your city would have been destroyed anyway."_

Kolya had lied. And the gratitude Rodney had felt at the time made him as ill now as it had then. He now knew with certainty that he was a coward.

"Ye did nothing wrong," Carson repeated.

A nurse slipped quietly over to the bed and, after a short nod of approval from Beckett, injected a sedative.

When Rodney finally quieted and lost consciousness Carson managed to lay his friend back onto the bed, with the nurses help, while still holding the gauze tightly against the wounded arm. Whatever the Geni had used to loosely stitch up the incisions was dissolving. Carson had a sick feeling that once the surgical cuts were reopened they'd find more stitching dissolving. The hasty patchwork hadn't been meant to last. It had been intended to break apart. Worse, he suspected that the dissolving thread had become an anti-coagulant. Such perversion of medical knowledge disgusted the physician.

He moved out of the way when Dr. Biro arrived with a team of attending nurses, and called for Dr Weir and Major Sheppard to be woken and informed that their Head of Science was going into surgery.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Elizabeth lay in her bed, awake and cold. She was exhausted, but even so, sleep and warmth were elusive. Years of experience participating in long and stressful peace negotiations on earth had taught Elizabeth the importance of rest. Even if that rest only consisted of laying awake, planning the day ahead and replaying the events of the previous day. If nothing else it was a time to reflect on what she had learned that day.

Tonight she found her mind busy with what she may have learned about herself, and it brought more fear than clarity. She had faced terrible men before. In her career she had sat at a table with national leaders whom had committed horrible atrocities in the name of war and self interest, and had helped them to come to tentative agreements in the name of the common good. She was great at what she did. Her skills in negotiation were what had led her to be chosen to lead an international mission requiring scientists and soldiers from so many nations to work for their common interests.

Elizabeth was the leader of this expedition. These people were her responsibility. Here, stranded in another Galaxy, more than ever these people who she chose to come here needed her to be strong! She couldn't afford to be second guessing herself.

Elizabeth had known there would be risks. She thought she had weighed them all before coming. She knew there was a very high chance they'd be stranded in the Pegasus Galaxy. She knew there would be danger. But she hadn't realized that there would be dangers like this. Nothing had prepared her for the violence she'd witnessed today.

Two of her men were dead, along with over sixty of the Genii invasion force that had tried to take control of the city. Should she have been spending more time trying to build positive relations with the Genii after their last meeting? Should she have expected something like this?

Twice today she was frozen with fear, her diplomatic skills left her, and her mind went numb. Once when Kolya had pointed the gun at her, and once when she'd felt Sheppard's bullet fly past her and into Kolya. Both times she'd looked into the eyes of a killer and known the gun would be fired without hesitation or remorse.

Elizabeth huddled further under her blanket, wishing that Simon was there to warm her and comfort her. She still felt cold to the bone from her time in the storm. A hot drink would have been nice, but Elizabeth didn't think she could stomach it. The memory of Kolya's blood, with its coppery smell, spattered against her uniform was still too fresh.

If only Simon were here to hold her. Elizabeth snuggled deeper into her pillow and cried quietly. She wasn't supposed to be this weak. As mission leader, she couldn't afford to allow herself this weakness.

The only good thing about the day had been that none of her own people had been seriously hurt, although she somehow doubted that either of them were sleeping much better. John had been far too quiet while they waited out the end of the storm. He'd been distant, hidden behind a mask of military professionalism. She could only guess at what might be going on in his head. Maybe he blamed himself for the breech in security. Maybe it was just difficult to have all that blood on his hands, even though it had been to protect the city.

Rodney was far more readable. He'd buried himself in his job in much the same way that John had, hiding behind scans and power checks while John 'guarded' Sora. Rodney also seemed to blame himself for the lengths to which the Genii were able to go. But while John's eyes went blank and cold, Rodney had never mastered such self control. It had been obvious that Kolya had actually learned of their plans by threatening to torture Rodney. She was just glad that her Chief Scientist and friend had had the sense to play along and gained no more than that cut on his arm, rather than let himself get seriously hurt.

It bothered her that he seemed ashamed, as though it were a weakness. But he didn't have the diplomatic experience to know that men like Kolya were never going to just leave quietly with what they'd purportedly come for. If the Genii hadn't been given a reason to stay longer, she and Rodney would probably still be prisoners, but on the Genii home world, and Atlantis would have been destroyed.

He had nothing to be embarrassed about. But calling him on it in front of the others only would have made him feel worse. Now that she thought about it, she should have made time to talk to him alone. But it hadn't been possible while they'd all been waiting out the storm in control room. Then she'd been overseeing the return of the bulk of Atlantis staff, and the Athosians, to the City. Temporary sleeping arrangements needed to be made for the Athosians, then arrangements for damage assessment crews to be sent to the mainland in the morning to help the Athosians to rebuild. Rodney was off confirming his own damage assessments of the city.

To be honest, she'd been a little too glad to be distracted from thoughts of how close that bullet had come to her, among other things. But now, alone in her quarters, with all the distractions gone, all the doubts and fears, and the shame, she'd been avoiding loomed in the darkness of her quarters.

The three of them would need to talk to Heightmeyer tomorrow. But for tonight Elizabeth felt she needed to face these fears, and conquer them, alone. She had to be a strong leader.

A polite knock at her door made her jump and stilled her gentle sobs.

"Dr. Weir?" Peter's voice came from the hall.

She quickly wiped away her tears and took a moment to calm herself. It was time to be the pillar of strength again.

"Dr. Weir?" There was a slightly firmer knock as the British Scientist supposed she was still waking.

Elizabeth forced herself not to huddle into the fleece she wore over her pj's. When she opened the door she knew she had a calm and confident posture. Peter, however, looked upset and tired. "Peter? What's happened?"

"Dr. Beckett asked that you and Major Sheppard be informed that Dr. McKay has been taken into surgery." He answered professionally, but there was and edge in his voice.

Elizabeth took a moment to register that. It had almost been too good to be true when she and Rodney had escaped virtually unscathed. What was Rodney even still doing up at this hour? Had he worked himself to injury? "What happened?"

Peter didn't answer, as his look of concern shifted over Elizabeth, and the fleece sweater she wore. "How long did you say you were outside in that storm?"

"Quite some time." She answered shortly with a diplomatic smile that showed appreciation for his concern without giving away too much of herself. "How was Dr. McKay injured?"

"I gather it was during the storm. We don't know the details." Peter surprised her by reaching out and laying a hand against her cheek, and his look became accusing. "You're hypothermic!"

"No." She was a bit cold but it had been so many hours since the storm, that had to be an exaggeration. "Peter, I'm just having a little trouble getting warm."

"That's hypothermia. Your core body temperature has dropped and needs help to warm back up. You need to go to the infirmary. Did none of you get yourselves looked at?" He didn't wait for an answer as he put an arm around her and lead her out of the room.

"There wasn't time." She explained slightly defensively, "I had other responsibilities and I felt fine. I don't feel that bad now!"

"You can explain that to Dr Beckett," Peter scolded uncharacteristically.

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John sat forward in the infirmary bed, cradling his throbbing hand, while a nurse wrapped his elbow. Once the rest of the city was all tucked in he'd gone to the training area to blow off some steam. He'd forgotten how well the punching bag could hold it's own in a fight, and he determined that the next time he needed to blow off that much steam he'd go for a run.

Dr Elizabeth Weir was huddled under a pile of blankets in the bed next to his, surrounded by hot water bottles and nursing a mug of hot chocolate.

Elizabeth, with her calm diplomatic smile and confident posture as she looked over the gate room, had been covering symptoms of hypothermia. He could see now that she was pale without her make-up on. And now that he thought about it, standing next to her he could feel the cold coming off of her. But she had seemed so normal, and was already wearing a sweater so he presumed she was taken care of. The truth was, John had been too preoccupied with trying to seem calm and in control so that Elizabeth would feel safe.

He could feel Carson's eyes burrowing into him as he berated the two of them. He could understand why Carson was angry. He could see now that it was a really bad idea to avoid the medical team the way he had, and that he'd failed to ensure that Elizabeth and Rodney got themselves looked at.

It was just one failure to add to the list. There hadn't been enough security around the gate during the cities most vulnerable time. His attempt to keep more of his people safe by getting as many of them as possible out of the city had only resulted in getting more of them killed and the two people he needed to protect the most getting captured. He'd let his guard down.

When he'd been sure Elizabeth had been killed, he'd snapped. All his advanced ops training had kicked in and all that mattered was making sure the enemy didn't succeed. No hostages were going to get in his way. He would have let the city be destroyed, taking the Genii and Rodney with it, and stranding everyone else. That single-minded kill or be killed focus wasn't him. It was like being taken over by some alien monster every time and he hated it. He was a weapon. Elizabeth and Rodney had looked at him with awe, and more than a little fear.

He could never tell them that it scared him too. They needed to know this weapon was confident, in control, and on their side to protect them. That was his job.

But, in the end, it was Rodney who had faced down the barrel of a gun to save Elizabeth when John had been powerless to do so. 'Hail Mary,' John thought ruefully.

"Are ye even listening to me!?" Carson snapped.

And John was reminded that he was supposed to be being scolded.

"Aren't ye a bloody idiotic pair?!" Carson scolded openly. "Being mission leaders does not mean ye must be invulnerable. But it does mean that ye are expected to have better judgement than this! Yer human beings! Ye have emotions. Ye have fallible bodies. And ye need to set a better example than this to everyone on this expedition!"

Sheppard looked down at his bandaged wrist and winced as he tried to flex it, as though to confirm that his body was indeed fallible, before looking up at Carson with a small pout. It was a move calculated to gain the sympathies of the physician. Carson had devised the cruel and unusual punishment of withholding information about Rodney until they'd been looked after and heard him out. Sheppard looked up at the physician with penitent puppy dog eyes, "We're really sorry."

But Carson was unrelenting, "Ye agree that ye were so busy trying to be strong for each other that ye completely missed that ye all needed help?!"

Elizabeth winced guiltily, "I think that's a fair assessment."

"Ye agree that all three of ye should have escorted each other to the infirmary as soon as the crisis was over and an able medical team was back in Atlantis? And that ye should have had a debriefing?" Carson glowered directly at Major Sheppard now, "They're for more than just sharing information. They're t'help ye emotionally decompress. And they're a darn sight ore effective than injuring yourself on a punching bag!"

Elizabeth and John exchanged a look before nodding.

"Good," Carson sighed tiredly. "Then I'll trust that this won't happen again. Most likely neither of ye were thinking as clearly as ye thought ye were. Certainly not with hypothermia or coming down from all that adrenaline. That's why it's so important to follow procedures rather than personal judgement when it comes to yer health and well being. I'd like ye both to spend the night here for observation, and ye'll be talking to Dr. Heightmeyer tomorrow before I release ye."

It was a measure of how effective the scolding, or perhaps the blackmail, had been that neither leader protested. It was never a nice to be on the wrong side of Dr. Carson Beckett. The man had needles, and he wasn't afraid to use them.

A nurse walked in from the direction of the operating room, with an air of controlled calm, and whispered something to Carson.

John strained his ears, hoping to catch some news about Rodney, but whatever she'd said whatever she'd come to say and hastened back in the direction she'd came.

Carson turned back towards the two errant leaders and spoke quickly.

"Now I need ye to answer some questions about Rodney." John and Elizabeth sat up a little straighter hoping that what they'd been waiting for, information about Rodney, was at hand, "Can ye tell me at exactly, or as closely as possible, what time Genii stitched his arm and what sort of equipment they had? Were there any needles, any vials of liquid, any…." He trailed off when he saw the blank and alarmed looks on both their faces, and backed the conversation up a few steps, "What do ye know about how the Genii learned of the plan to save the city?"

Elizabeth sat up, knocking a few of the water bottles aside, "Oh my god. They really tortured him, didn't they!?"

"I thought McKay told them so that we'd have a chance to implement the plan before the storm came." Sheppard bit out in an angry tone as he turned to Elizabeth. That had been what he'd been told while they were waiting out the storm. He'd joked that McKay needed more training, and to work on his timing, before he should try anymore impromptu escape attempts.

This only seemed to irritate Carson, "Were ye even aware his arm was injured?"

"They tortured him!?" Sheppard's voice sounded steely, even to himself, and his heart threatened to pound into his ears again. He was dimly aware that he was now clenching his injured hand.

"Now, calm down Major." Carson admonished, "Hurting yourself again isn't going to help him, answering my questions just might."

"What did they do to him?" Sheppard snapped stubbornly. He was kicking himself for not demanding to see what was under that ridiculous bandage that he'd actually thought was amusing. He'd thought it was just Rodney being Rodney, Rodney over-reacting. Why hadn't he known better? He'd been distracted, but that was no excuse.

"I can assure ye he wasn't grazed during an escape attempt." Carson answered evasively, "It would be helpful to know precisely how long ago it happened."

Elizabeth sat up and answered calmly, "After Rodney used the sound system to send John a warning, to tell him what the Genii were after, we were separated for about an hour."

She threw John, a guilt ridden look, "I stalled to give you time to stop the Genii from getting what they wanted. When we got back to Rodney he was holding his arm. I knew they'd probably threatened him and ruffed him up a bit, but he didn't seem seriously hurt. Rodney said it would be fine, and well, it's Rodney so I believed him. He was using his arm to work all night, he even stopped favouring it after a while."

"The Genii went for the C4 at around 16:00 hours." Sheppard completed the answer for her.

Carson wasted no time, immediately turning to two of his staff who had been waiting nearby. He pointed to each in turn, "Exposure began anywhere between 16:00 and 17:00 hours. Go, tell Dr Biro now. And inform Dr Tremmell immediately, he's moved to chemlab one."

"Beckett," Sheppard's militant voice snapped, calling his attention back to the two beds.

Elizabeth regarded the physician with her own stern, controlled expression. She was the diplomat leader again. "We need a full medical report, now."

Carson seemed to realize that it was time to once again address his patients as leaders, albeit reluctantly, "A series of precise surgical incisions were used to peel away the outer layers of the patient's upper forearm, exposing muscle, tendons, and nerve endings without doing damage that would inhibit the functioning of the limb. Once exposed, pressure was placed on the nerves and precise incisions made into the muscle tissue. Again, the muscular incisions were made so as not to overly impede motor functioning. The wound was then closed and stitched with a thread designed to dissolve into an anticoagulant within a day. Bruising and some tearing in the stitching suggests that the wound was roughly handled post surgery. Once dissolved, the anti-coagulant seems to have spread through his system, causing other, more innocuous, injuries to erupt into internal bleeding. Dr Biro and her team are relieving the pressure and replacing his blood as quickly as they can."

He sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck, "To be honest, we're running out of ideas. We've tried running his blood through a filter to remove whatever it is, but some of it has broken down too far. Knowing the compounds approximate rate of degradation will help us to identify it and its properties. If only we could have removed the stitching before it dissolved to this level, but what's done is done."

Elizabeth lowered her head in shame. All that time that Rodney had been protecting her, Elizabeth we certain it should have been the other way around. She was leader of this expedition. She had brought Rodney here.

John could only blame himself. He was the one charged with protecting the two civilians. He lay back against the bed and stared up at the ceiling, "He seemed so normal."

"Aye," Carson agreed, "Ye all did." But he couldn't help but feel that even with his concussion he should have realized all was not right with the three of them.


End file.
